"Did he not tell you that I had been attacked with a grievous malady? that——"
"I remember! He spoke of a dangerous malady which had assailed you; and he remarked that all fear of contagion was now past. But I was so occupied at the time with the afflicting intelligence of your severe illness—so surprised, too, when I learnt that Isabella was here with you,—that I paid but little attention to that observation."
"Alas!" said Mary-Anne, in a faint and deeply-melancholy tone, "I have been assailed by a horrible malady—a malady which leaves its fatal marks behind, as if the countenance had been seared with red-hot iron—which disfigures the lineaments of the human face—eats into the flesh—and—and——"
"The small-pox!" cried Markham with a shudder.
"The small-pox," repeated Mary-Anne. "But you need not be alarmed: all danger of infection or contagion is now past—or I should not have sent to Isabella to come to me yesterday."
"I am not afraid," answered our hero: "I shuddered on your account. And even if there were any danger," he added, "I should not fly from it, if my presence be a consolation to you."
"You now understand," said the dying girl, "the reason why I could not hope for happiness in this world, even if I were to recover from my present illness,—and why death will be preferable to existence in a state of sorrow. How could I grope about in darkness, where I have been accustomed to feast my eyes with the beauties of nature and the wonderful fabrics raised by men? How could I consent to linger on in blindness in a world where there is so much to admire?"
"Blindness!" echoed our hero: "impossible! You cannot mean what you say!"
"Alas! it were a folly to jest upon one's death-bed," returned the young lady, with a deep sigh. "What I said ere now was the truth. The malady made giant strides to hurry me to the tomb: never had the physicians before known its ravages to proceed with such frightful celerity. It has left its traces upon my countenance—and it has deprived me of the blessing of sight. Oh! now I am hideous—a monster,—I know, I feel that I am,—revolting, disgusting," continued Mary-Anne, bitterly; "and not for worlds would I allow you to behold that face which once possessed some attraction."
"The marks left by the scourge that has visited you will gradually become less apparent," said Richard, deeply afflicted by the tone, the manner, and the communications of the invalid; "and probably the eye-lids are but closed for a time, and can be opened again by the skill of a surgeon."